Her posture instantly changes. She physicallyandemotionally withdraws. As she releases my hand, my stupid thumb ring clinks on her jewelry. My eyes lock on the source of the sound. Her rings are far too thick to be normal jewelry.
Eerily similar to mine.
When I break my gaze away, she’s staring at my thumbs. Gradually, her shocked eyes lock on mine.
We both know.
In that instant, something passes between us, carried on the wings of mutual suffering. An unspoken acknowledgment.
I’m hit with an oddly warm sensation. In my next breath, I realize it’s the comfort in knowing I’m not alone.
Before this interaction with Dana, I had my suspicions that she was marking cards. Especially after her home invasion. When Reed and his team told me they wanted me to talk to her on camera, my hunch was officially validated.
Butthisis more powerful. There’s a big difference between suspicion and confirmation.
There’s no longer any doubt we’re both being used as puppets by a twisted, violent man.
“Dana, your rings,” I start, sounding pathetically frail.
F that.
I roll my shoulders back and try again, this time telling my fear to suck an egg. “I see you wear yours on your pinky fingers, huh? I opted for the thumb rings. Makes it easier for my dealing style.”
My eyes burn into hers, all but challenging her to deny or deflect. She does neither, seemingly frozen.
In retrospect, I probably should have proceeded with more caution. Too late now.
At least the peanut gallery in my ear is refreshingly mute.
Dana lingers in the stilted silence, studiously sweeping her gaze around the room. It’s empty, save for the two of us.
I wonder if she’s curious why it’s a ghost town. Thanks to the little birdies in my ear, I already know it was orchestrated to give us a few minutes alone. Management staggered staff breaks to buy us this quiet time.
Dana finally speaks, but her vision stays focused on the door. “They got to you too?”
“Yes.”
Her lip trembles. “I thought you might be in on it since Silas was your boyfriend.”
“Oh heck no. He only started dating me so he could learn what mattered most to me. Then he took her.”
She coughs, but the sound is forced, as if she’s concealing a pained sob. “Did he give her back?”
“Eventually.”
Her eyes fall from the doorway as she faces me. “Who did he take?”
“My best friend,” I admit.
“Ask who he took from her,” Reed urges softly.
At least I don’t reply audibly to him this time.Win for me.
“What about you?” I press Dana. “Who did Silas take?”
Her cheek undulates like she’s gnawing on it from inside her mouth. “Not quite the same for me.”
After a pointed exhale, she returns her stare to the door. And I get it now. She’s watching to ensure we remain alone.
